The Keeper of the Door eBook

She fully realized, however, that an appeal to Violet
at this stage would be worse than futile. Violet
was too set on her mischievous course to do other
than laugh and pursue it with renewed zest for her
capture. Of course there remained Nick, chosen
adviser and confidant; but for some reason Olga shrank
from discussing Max with him. She had an uneasy
dread lest Nick’s intelligence should leap ahead
of her and disclose to her with disconcerting suddenness
facts and possibilities with which she was quite unprepared
to reckon. She visualized his grin of amused
comprehension over the means she had devised for her
own deliverance and the unpleasant quandary in which
it had placed her. Nick’s sense of humour
was at times almost too keen. She smiled faintly
to herself over this reflection. She could not
deny that there were points in the situation which
appealed even to her own.

Yet she was more ashamed than amused. The discovery
that Max was human had somehow altered everything,
and made her own conduct appear dastardly. She
had acted maliciously albeit, in self-defence; but
now that it seemed that her point might pierce his
armour, she wanted to withdraw it. She shrank
unspeakably from seeing him vanquished. It would
have hurt her to find him at her own feet, but the
bare thought of him at Violet’s—­Violet
who had no mercy upon old or young, who would trample
him underfoot without a pang and pass gaily on—­that
thought was unbearable.

Of course she might be wrong. It was still possible
that her original conception of him might be the correct
one. He had a passion for his profession, she
knew. It was quite possible that this had inspired
his taking that awful risk the night before, quite
possible also that a hopeless case did not appeal
to him and that he had not therefore greatly cared
how soon or in what manner Mrs. Stubbs had passed out
through the prison-door which it was his work to guard.
She realized vaguely that this form of callousness
was not so hideous as she had at first deemed it.
She also began to realize that for a man who had seen
suffering and death in many forms and who found himself
finally powerless to alleviate the one or avert the
other, the inevitable end could not possess the tragic
significance which it possessed for others.

Either point of view of his character was possible.
She did not know him well enough to decide to her
own satisfaction which was actually the true one.
But the fact remained that she had delivered him to
Violet to be tormented, and that before he had given
any sign of suffering she had repented the rash act.
He might be capable of suffering or he might not;
but she had a passionate desire to know him safe before
the fire had begun to kindle.

Violet’s return at length broke up her reflections.
She awoke from her reverie with a start to exclaim
upon the lateness of the hour. It was already
close upon luncheon-time.